


on instinct

by choir



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choir/pseuds/choir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On some days you can't think of the right things to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. youth

**Author's Note:**

> Collection of Ereri drabbles, not in any particular order. 
> 
> (I didn't even think I shipped Ereri, but then suddenly I was sitting at home and had the strangest urge to write it, so perhaps...?)

On some days you can't think of the right words to say, and all you can do to placate your thoughts is bite back the attempts through your teeth, the taste of iron so familiar on your tongue. You can never bring yourself to mind too much, though, because sometimes he looks up at you with heavy lidded eyes, pupils blown so wide they look black, and you can't think of much to say, anyways.

More often than not, you think it's better this way.

 

 

 

 

Your relationship is categorized by his rambunctiousness.

He has a fierce expression, most of the time, and he is so young, you think; it makes you wonder about the weight of what you are doing, how when he salutes there is little more than a small curved smile in determination about how this time, they'll get it right.

This time, Corporal, he mutters to himself, inexperienced hands clutching his blades like they can possibly protect everybody.

You find that his power and drive are possibly what drives you so close to him. The way he shuts his eyes when you stand on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair with a scowl. The look he gives you when you walk into a room. How when he walks into your office, he almost seems shy.

And he's scared of you, he admits, of your downcast expression and experience and knowledge. He wants to learn how to fight like you do.

When he tells you this, you roll over and shut your eyes tight, telling him it's better he doesn't understand.


	2. ocean

 

You overhear Armin reading to him, one day, about the giant body of water made of salt, how it extends past your line of sight, swallowing light and clouds and life, too; Armin outlines how ships have supposedly sunk to the bottom, wherever it may be.

Rows of skeletons, floating as they decompose in liquid quiet -- you suppose that there is no worse way to die than another, and you expect him to protest at such a fate, because he has never failed to do so before, but you hear his voice rocket high, like the puberty he’s gone through in the past year is instantaneously nullified, and you wonder if his eyes are as bright as his voice.

“That’s amazing!” he shouts, and Armin laughs.

Such difference, then, from when he looks at you; you don’t understand why his expression seems to cloud over with such gentle calmness. Your aura is not one of soft lines and careful smiles, you know, so why --

“Calm down, Eren, I can’t read when you’re hovering over the pages so much --”

“Do you think anyone has seen the ocean?” he asks. “That we know. That we could ask?”

“No one has seen it,” Armin says softly, as though placating a child. “At least, not since…”

He falls silent, then, and you can only hear ragged breathing in its place. His face must be either angry or sullen; it irritates you even more that you can’t tell which one it is. You’re only a few feet away, hidden around the corner, and you still don’t know anything about how he acts.

“We can see it though, right?” he says, so quiet you can’t believe it’s the same boy who shouts at the top of his lungs when he wants his opinion heard. “After all this.”

 _So confident_ , you think, half smiling to yourself.

The good mood lasts into the evening, so out of character even Hanji seems miffed by your behavior.

 


	3. humanity

You won’t say it, but you think you like Eren best when he’s not human.

Not that he really is, in the first place. No human has such a pathetic excuse for a survival instinct, rushing into danger on the belief that dedication and strife can possibly triumph over the power that humanity has not been able to suppress for over 100 years.

And yet Eren, in all his reckless drive, only amazes you, when he transforms -- raw anger and emotion, something you have not been able to hold and feel for years. His motivation is the same thing that holds you back; you cannot imagine what it would be like if you opened yourself to such strong desire. Long ago, you learned that dulling the same fire that Eren ignites saves you the regret of looking at the people you cannot save.

(Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that this is a lie -- but believing so desperately makes it easier, on long nights.)


	4. the inner workings of the mind

You hear from Hanji that the conscious mind is not able to capture everything.

The line of sweat that dribbles down Eren’s neck, the flush at the base of his throat, the saliva shining at the side of his mouth -- what are you missing? Is there a point in which Eren is unreachable, so far ahead that you can never scramble ahead to meet him?

Dragging your hands up his sides, you listen for the hitch in his voice, the quiet moan you quickly silence with your mouth, the twist of his body when you breathe against his collarbone. You desperately try to take it all in, whatever your mind cannot handle; the thought of missing any of it makes your chest contract in a way you aren't used to.

(You don't want even want to miss the fact that he’s been growing even more in the past few months, shooting up even further than you, so much that you have to stretch even more to rub the top of his head. It bugs you, but when he covers your body with his, you find that you don’t really mind.)

Hanji says that the brain fills in the parts it cannot take in, like faux memories, and you remember clutching the chair so hard your knuckles turned white, when she told you. When you stare at him, you don't want to believe that your mind is filling in parts for you.

“Eren,” you whisper against his hips, “let me see all of you.”

He lets out an incredulous laugh, making his body shake. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, outlining the smooth skin on his legs, free of scars and burns.

Perhaps, like most things, it is better to keep silent, when you have these thoughts. Lowering your head, you instead watch the way Eren's chest lurches upward, shuddering as his head tosses back and forth with quiet, high-pitched moans. It reminds you that he has not grown up so much, after all.


	5. speech

The first time you both talk -- really talk -- it’s after failure. You’re injured, more than before, and bedridden for a few days drifting between conscious and unconscious, hearing voices between hours when your senses sharpen and you can focus on people for long enough to answer questions.

(Not many people come, however, and you don’t expect them to -- life goes on, and survival is more important. Of all the people who appear, it’s Irvin, for a few minutes every day.)

When Eren stops by, you’re sitting up in your bed and rubbing your temples, irritated by how your vision still swims from blood loss. You were lucky, the doctors said. Any more and you would have been dead. Somehow, the thought isn’t as terrible as you thought it would be -- you are so used to it, by now.

Eren’s eyes look less sharp than normal, when you squint and try to steady your line of sight, looking at you like a kicked puppy that can’t recover. You want to strangle him, yell at him to go back to normal, screaming about determination with Mikasa and Armin trailing behind with small smiles on their faces.

But the look doesn’t leave, and he stands there with clenched fists and downcast eyes. He moves closer to your bed, sits down quietly without meeting your gaze.

“Look at me,” you command, voice heavy. Heat surges through your muscles, and you want so badly to reach up and grab his hair and shove his face toward yours, but your right arm is still in a sling, plastered against your chest.

He looks up, expression so downcast you feel an odd tug in your chest. “If I had only listened --”

“No,” you say, head spinning. “No one knew.”

“But I had the ability --”

“No,” you repeat, irritability and exasperation leaking into your voice. Your headache really is awful, at this point. “You didn't. Use your head, for once.”

Eren opens his mouth, a mixture of shock and anger coloring his features. “Then what would you have done?” he pressures, leaning over so close you can smell the soap on his skin. “If Commander Irvin, like Armin, was lying there --”

“It’s different,” you scowl, left hand shooting up to shove his face away.

“Petra told me,” he mutters, “that Irvin picked you up. That you were a cri--”

“Didn’t I tell you,” you growl, reaching over to grab his collar, “to use your head?”

“It’s not different,” he says, so quiet and out of character that your hands, twitching with the urge to slap him, freeze. “You would have done the same thing, right? If he about to be eaten, someone so important …”

 _For you, too_ , you want to say, but it catches on your tongue, twisting back into your throat, and it reminds you that you don’t know how to speak around Eren, not at all.

“What I wanted to say,” he continues, “was … thanks. For getting me and Armin out of there.”

He’s too damn coherent in all the right times; you groan internally, mouth frozen open and choking on words. “If you died,” you struggle to say, “everything up until now would have been worthless. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Yeah,” he says, a grin spreading across his face.

You think, then, of the red that spotted over your vision when he rushed down to help his fallen friend, the blood curdling scream of them both as Eren’s arm is crushed beneath the foot of a titan, of Armin’s desperate cries as he is lifted up in giant, human like hands, of Eren’s angry tears staining your skin as you hold him in one arm and use the other to sink your blades into flesh. You think of how Armin crumples to the ground with a crack that you almost worry about, for a moment, if Eren were not squirming and writhing in your grip.

You think of how, when Eren escapes your grip, he so delicately holds up Armin’s head to press their foreheads together, and it makes you think of the difference between you both, all up to the time you fly right into the grip of another titan.

But now, watching a self-assured cheeky smile playing on his lips, you can only think of the quick release of anxiety when you woke up, hours later, in a carriage next to the injured, hearing the loud shouts of _Eren, Eren, Eren_ \--

“Captain?” he asks.

“I can’t believe we’re putting everything on you,” you say, shaking your head. “But there’s no one else.”

“I’ll do it,” shouts Eren, slamming his hands down on either side of your legs and leaning over, eyes shining.

You gently kiss him, in reply.


	6. future

Some days, when Eren sits in your office, he asks about the places and people you know, what you wish to see. You never give direct answers -- you cannot -- but watching his eyebrows furrow in annoyance make the corners of your lips twitch upward, and you think that long days with nothing to do but wait may not be so bad, after all.

“Armin told me about the outside yesterday,” Eren says, head in his hands and a serious expression on his face.

“Did he,” you say, your fingers absentmindedly tapping the wood of the desk.

“There’s no where you want to go?”

“Keep your head out of the clouds,” you scowl, unsure of what to think. He’s never brought up things these things with you; it’s been previously reserved for Armin and Mikasa, and whoever the hell else Eren drags into his plans of grandeur. You generally aren’t a part of it.

He falls silent, for once, and you look at him in surprise. When your eyes lock, his gaze is so piercing that you have to look away.

“Then I’ll take you,” he says, voice low.

“What?” you ask, incredulous, head snapping up.

“I said, I’ll take you. With Armin and Mikasa. To the ocean.”

“Don’t involve me,” you snap, but can’t ignore how when you clutch your wrist, the pulse there is erratic, loud.

“But we have a chance now!” he protests, slamming his hands on the desk. 

“Eren,” you mutter, grabbing his chin and squeezing, “I won’t repeat myself.”

He slinks back, gnawing on his lips in what you think is anger -- it makes you want to reach over and kick him, but he’s pacing back and forth between your desk and the door, and frankly you aren’t sure if it’s even worth the energy to stand up out of the seat. Maybe. 

“You’ve never thought about it?” he eventually says, stopping with his back to you.

“About the ocean?” you echo, precariously close to snapping your pen in half. 

“Travelling,” he says. “You know, just getting on a horse and _going_.”

“Personally,” you mutter, the tip of the pen beginning to creak, “I like to think of short term goals.”

“You don’t have --”

“I do,” you raise an eyebrow, watching his expression morph into confusion. “But I have to get out of here alive first.”

He grins. “And if you do?”

“I’ll go,” you rubs your temples, sighing. “I’ll go to the damn ocean with you.”

Eren doesn't quite shout, but he does an idiotic fist pump that forces you out of your chair, if only to knock him over. His exuberance is irritating, and it gives you a headache, but when he hits the floor you can’t help but offer your hand to him, giving him a look that you hope shows you’re expecting him to take you anywhere he goes.


	7. humanity (the second round)

You tell people that you have only seen Eren upset once. 

You didn’t even think anything of it, at first -- the boy is known for crying out of frustration (and motivation) before. He’s always had flighty emotions, easy to reassure and easy to break. 

But when he cries, it’s too quiet; he’s staring at the floor, shuddering exhales cut in half as his voice hitches up slightly. He looks smaller, like this, vulnerable in a way that you never wanted to know. In your mind, he is not invincible, but unbeatable in motivation, and it makes you wonder how long it will take for you to understand him, then.

You wonder if the worst part is that he doesn’t speak, the back of his hand coming up to frantically rub at his eyes, almost like he isn’t sure what to think. It irritates you, in a strange way, and you tip his chin up to catch a glance of his disgusting runny nose, tears catching on your fingers. It makes your hand twitch, to feel how warm they are.

 _Eren_ , you would say, were you more eloquent and prone to speaking your mind with him, _I'm alive_.

Erwin has always been the grandiloquent one, the one who always knew the right things to say -- you don’t know what to do to reassure him but take his hand and place it over your heart, staring steadily as he raises his gaze. You don’t even know what the gesture conveys, other than reassurance that you are both human, in strange ways no member of the military can identify.

He really does look disgusting, like this, cinched eyebrows and quivering lips and big, wide eyes that can only stare in shock. Reflexively, you squeeze his wrist, to listen to the slowing pulse. It reassures you, somehow, to think of it as something unchangeable. Something that will never stop.

Eren’s lips twitch into a smile when his eyes meet yours, but it morphs into something more like a grimace, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Damn kid.

You’re about to open your mouth to ask him why the hell he is crying, but he leans in to rest his face against the side of your head, and you let out a sigh. He starts trembling, then, hands shaking so violently by his sides it almost seems painful. 

Perhaps, you think, this is what it means to be human, and realize that Eren may be more so than you.

 

 

(Later, you will wonder how long you stood there, rubbing circles with your hands into Eren’s shoulders, not moving, not breathing.

And Eren, Eren doesn’t stop crying until he slumps against you, so exhausted he can’t stand.)


	8. relative concepts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV change to 3rd person in this chapter.
> 
> I really have no idea where I'm going with these drabbles ...

Distance has always been a relative concept to Levi.

There’s physical distance, such as the distance he has to walk to shove a rag in Hanji’s mouth to get her to stop rambling, but there's also emotional distance, which he understands much less.

Emotional distance generally pisses the hell out of him. Like when Eren disappears for days on end, avoiding his gaze and ducking under Armin and Mikasa to hide from him. It’s not like Levi wants to be irritated. And he’s not. He broke a few pens the other day, but he’s really not annoyed. At all. 

“Your nervous habit is showing again,” Hanji says, pointing at Levi’s fingers, where they drum against his thigh. “Is it Eren?”

“No,” he says, a little harsher and quicker than he expected.

It’s not as though he doesn’t trust Hanji -- her eyes and wits more often than not seem to see right through him, and it’s hard to get many lies past her. But Eren is an anomaly, some sort of off-center emotion that Levi hasn’t practice dealing with. He’d spout some sort of flowery bullshit about how it “leaves his heart burning with pain” and “he can’t sleep at night with the memories that haunt his dreams,” but he’s never been particularly good at writing, nor expressing himself.

Levi doesn’t even _want_ to express himself half the time. Eren forces it out of him. 

“Earth to Levi,” Hanji drawls, flicking a finger at his forehead.

Flinching, he scowls and turns away. Talking about Eren is one of his least favorite activities.

Thinking about Eren is even worse.

(Spending time with him, however, is something that he can’t say irritates him at all.)

“He’s been ducking behind Armin and Mikasa all week,” he says, each word slow and deliberate.

“Are you sure it’s not because he’s embarrassed?” she rests her head on her right hand, one eyebrow raised.

“Embarrassed?” frowning, Levi meets Hanji’s steady gaze. “Why the hell would he be embarrassed?”

“It’s a good thing, you know,” she says, grinning. “It means you affect him, somehow.”

“He’s a little brat that can’t even form a proper sentence,” Levi continues, eyebrows furrowing. “He trips over his own fucking feet sometimes during morning practice, has these giant ass eyes that stare down at you like you’re some sort of freaking miracle, and--”

“Levi,” she stops him, laughing, and he has never been so confused by Hanji’s expression. “That’s what I mean.”

They have a staring contest for about five minutes, Levi trying not to look like a confused fish (he also tries not to think about how terrible his metaphors are), because he still has no idea what the hell Hanji is saying. About to let out some sort of half confused, half accepting grunt, the door creaks open and a familiar voice sounds through. Levi lets himself smile, slightly.

“Come in, Eren. Hanji was just telling me about her experiments.”


End file.
